Game Face

As some of you already know . . . I am the worst liar in the universe. I have no "game face". You can read my emotions easily. Hell, most of the time, I don't even have to talk and people still know what I'm thinking.

The inability to mask my emotions can be quite the Achilles heel . . . in faculty meetings, an assistant principal would watch my face to see how the meeting was going. And today, I was asked a question that I didn't want to answer and I lied. And the person knew I was lying.

Now it was a little white lie. It wasn't hurting anyone to say what I said. But I could tell that you could read it on my face, that what I was saying was way more positive than what I really felt. I did manage to change the subject . . . but I need to get better at dodging.

Funny, I almost lied to the guy trying to pick me up at Starbucks this afternoon. He had gotten my phone number wrong and if he hadn't asked I wouldn't have corrected him. He was full of questions, "I play golf" man was . . .

"What do you do for fun?" Sacrifice kittens and bury their skulls in a ring around my house . . .
"So do you live around here?" So you can come over and stalk me? Sure let me tell you exactly where I live, random Starbucks man.
"Ever play golf?" Ummmm. . . have you seen my hair?
"So what to you think of Spinoza?" Do I have to think about 17th century philosophers right now? I'm trying to read the paper.
"What is a good time to call?" Ummm . . . I have voice mail. (Okay, I actually said that. Been reading "Why Men Love Bitches")

I then went to the dreaded Trader Joes, to pick up wine and organic dog treats. Didn't see RB best friend's car . . . plan was: get in, get out . . . just like Czechoslovakia. ("Stripes" joke) As I walked in a man was yelling "Hey" and I kept walking . . . couldn't be "hey"-ing at me.

Yup, he was "Hey"ing at me.

"Oh, hi . . . "
"I was yelling at you and you didn't even turn around"
(Insert lame excuse here)
We exchanged phone numbers. He has finished his album. It was pleasant. He is cute. He shows me where the organic dog treats are. "Give me a call sometime" I say. I shop for wine. Checkout at his station (knew I was playing with fire). "So what are you doing tonight?" Tell him about the dog party. Maybe escaping to see the Amino Acids. Yay, I'm going to get out of here and . . . then it comes.

"So . . . you still talk to (RB)?"
They talk more than girls . . . he already knows the answer to this question.
"No . . ."
"So you guys don't talk? You aren't friends?"
And here is where the lies come . . . and the game face did not. Okay, make what you say as short as possible as not to incriminate yourself.
"He has my phone number." Get a smile out of that one. "It didn't end badly." And change the subject . . . "So you really finished your album, that is so great . . ." Ahh, the oh-so-obvious defection to the interest of the other person.

So I want a better game face. Because my words said "I don't care" but I don't think I managed it on my face.

Off to the dog party . . . bought Norm some organic chicken strips and Princess some good wine . . . should be fun.